


Emergency Lights

by Tarlan



Series: Emergency Colors [11]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Community: fanfic100, Drama, Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-16
Updated: 2007-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:11:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By the time he reached McMurdo, John had an answer for Jack O'Neill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emergency Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Fanfic100 challenge Prompt 016. Purple

They gave out a Purple Heart every time a soldier was injured or killed in the line of duty. It was like some kind of weird badge of honor for not ducking fast enough. He had collected a couple during his years in the military but as Dr. McKay led him through yet another series of grueling demands, John reckoned that mental damage should also count towards a Purple Heart. Less than twenty hours ago he had been nothing more than a delivery pilot, biding his time in McMurdo until he managed to prove he was willing to buckle down and take orders, or until he resigned. Now his head was spinning from an overload of information that seemed to have leaped straight out of an Outer Limits or Twilight Zone episode. He had a mutant gene and was needed in the fight against compromised humans with snakes in their head by traveling through a big circle in some kind of wormhole vortex thingy that would take him to other worlds and even another galaxy. His mutant gene was from some advanced race that came to Earth and couldn't keep his dick in his pants while dealing with the second generation of humans now living there. The fact that he had this gene so strongly made him wonder how incestuous his family line had been or whether they just had some genetic radar that helped them pick out other humans with the gene...like his own gaydar that had lined up McKay as either bisexual or a man in total denial judging by the way he exalted over the delights of some blond woman scientist.

At least General O'Neill came from similar genetic stock so he doubted anyone was going to rib him with 'Deliverance' quotes or that twangy music from the film.

Still, having spent hours being poked, prodded and stabbed with various needles by Beckett while McKay whined and bitched all over him, shoving objects in his hand and going into paroxysms of delight when they obligingly lit up like Christmas Tree lights, the last thing he needed was the 'recruitment talk'.

Dr. Weir insisted on him calling her Elizabeth, erroneously believing that being on first name terms might sway him one way or another. She spent an hour glorifying the Stargate project, talking about new worlds and mythology but it all boiled down to a possible one way trip to a galaxy far, far away. And they were not even taking any planes or helicopters with them. What was a pilot supposed to do in a mythological city in another galaxy? Especially when that mythological city was supposed to have sunk beneath the waves. He'd just be a glorified light switch instead of a glorified taxi service but at least his current assignment came with a helicopter and the chance to fly the damn thing.

John gave a sigh of relief when the General ordered him to fly him back to McMurdo. McKay looked gutted, as if the General was taking away his favorite teddy bear and, sure, in another time or place, John might have been interested in finding out what lay beneath those bulky fleeces and baggy pants but, for now, all he wanted to do was escape and gain some time to let all of this soak in.

Weir must have said something to the General because he was pretty succinct, giving John just the length of the journey back to McMurdo to gather his thoughts and say YES or... Or what exactly? He was already serving in the coldest hellhole on Earth, not that he minded as he kind of liked it here. However, he was already looking at the end of his military career spent flying back and forth between scientific and military research units based around McMurdo, learning to anticipate the ever-fluctuating weather conditions. Sometimes he even did something worthwhile like when they pulled out that doctor with the broken leg not long after he was assigned here.

Of course, the weather closing in had grounded most flights and it could be damn boring at times, listening to the howl of the wind buffeting the prefab buildings. And sometimes it got just a little too cold for his liking, or a little too hairy, like the previous time when he came out to this supposed research station only to be hit by a storm partway. He'd barely landed the chopper in one piece, and almost on top of some idiot scientist who looked like a huge orange balloon in his storm wear. He had always been relatively good at remembering names so he recalled that the scientist in question had been a Dr. McKay. The likelihood of there being two McKay's here was remote so now he wondered if that close call had actually gone the wrong way. Certainly, this McKay was a real pain in the ass, and not in the pleasant gay sense. Though on the one occasion when McKay bent over, stretching those baggy pants tight over the sweet curves of a heart-shaped ass, John had felt a few impure thoughts of giving the doctor a pleasurable pain in the ass.

The General said nothing as they traveled over the bleak but beautiful Antarctic landscape but John did not need to hear any more recruitment patter and he sensed a no-nonsense attitude in the General that made him respect the man more than any other officer John had ever dealt with in the past. By the time he reached McMurdo, he knew the answer was YES. He had always been a fan of bad science fiction and the chance to actually be a part of something far greater than himself was oddly appealing when he truly had little left for him here on Earth. He had no family to speak of, at least none that would give him the time of day and, lack of aircraft aside, maybe there would be some cool spaceships wherever they were going. Then there was McKay, though John was not certain if that was a plus or a minus in the whole scheme of things but the man was intriguing, firing up John's interest where he had felt nothing for some time.

As he moved through the final landing protocols, switching off the engine and letting the rotors slow, he glanced across at O'Neill.

"Okay. Yes, Sir."

"Good. I was hoping you'd say that."

O'Neill left the helicopter without saying another word but John barely had time to stow his gear before he was called to his CO's office. He stood to attention, his posture bordering on insolent, just enough to irritate his CO without giving him justification to bring him up on report.

"I don't know what you did to suck up to the General but you've been reassigned effective immediately. Get your gear packed. You leave in two hours. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir." John threw in a not-too-sloppy salute for good measure and left without a backwards glance, hoping he had made the right decision. Two hours later he was packed and riding shotgun on a helicopter back to the Ancient outpost, and this time the helicopter would be returning to McMurdo without him.

***

Waking up in Jack's arms in the early hours of this morning was a dream come true. He'd forgotten exactly how long he had been having that same fantasy and wondered how he could have been so oblivious and not notice how Jack felt about him in return but then, Jack was not a USAF General for no reason. He had mastered the art of deception long ago, surviving the worst that the galaxy could throw at him, including Baal's torture, with a strength of mind and resolve that could only awe his allies and enemies alike. Through it all, Jack had not seemed to change at all, remaining the steadfast, slightly laconic, almost sour-witted man who gave off an air of being nothing more than a grunt, lulling his enemies into a false sense of security until he sprung into action. Anyone who truly knew him saw through the act; the people that truly mattered saw through the act, which was why he now had a star on his collar.

As Daniel walked into the cafeteria, he smirked in memory of last night, feeling a pleasant ache from early morning sex. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel Jack moving inside him, thrusting slow but deep, filling him, loving him. He wanted that again but Jack couldn't stay for another day, not with Elizabeth chomping at the bit to get her expedition moving forward now they had a gate address. Still, even at the best estimate, they were still a month away from getting anything firmed up. If this was going to be a one way trip to the Pegasus galaxy then equipment had to be checked and double-checked and the expedition members needed time to settle their affairs here on Earth, to make provisions for family and property. They needed time to differentiate between what they needed and what they wanted because, if they got a lock, then they would have only 38 minutes to transfer everything they needed through the gate. Not just people, science and military equipment but survival gear and rations too, and water because there was no guarantee that those resources would be immediately available.

Jack had left almost three hours earlier, piloted back to McMurdo by Rodney's new flyboy toy, which would explain why Daniel found Rodney sitting alone at a table with his laptop open and hard copies strewn around him rather than working in the Chair room. Rodney was stuffing food into his mouth without ever taking his eyes off the screen and Daniel grinned because Rodney never once missed his mouth. His poor but efficient eating habits spoke of years of practice and it no longer surprised Daniel that Rodney had two PhDs because Rodney was relentless in his studies. Of course, Jack said the same thing about him.

Daniel grabbed some breakfast and dropped into the seat opposite Rodney, gently pushing aside some of his papers and ignoring the look of shocked horror and the downward curve of Rodney's mouth.

"Busy!" Rodney snapped back suddenly.

Daniel smiled sweetly and sipped at his coffee as Rodney's brow furled in annoyance but he ought to have realized by now that Daniel wasn't scared of him. Rodney huffed in resignation and turned all his attention on Daniel, his brow furrowing again.

"You got laid!" He pointed an accusatory finger at Daniel.

Daniel waved at his hand, silently pleading with Rodney to lower his voice, and glancing around but no one seemed to be paying them any attention, fortunately. The last thing Daniel needed was for rumors to run riot about him and Jack.

"Oh, that's just great. Here I am in need of a little comforting having been reduced to making appointments for Carson's time in the Chair, and you're all...all... happy and ravished." Rodney's eyes narrowed. "Who was it? That English guy desperately failing to figure out the power source in the drones..." He clicked his fingers. "No wait. It was that little Japanese scientist...Mako? Marko?"

"Miko."

"Aha!"

"No. It wasn't her."

"Oh." Rodney opened his mouth.

"And it wasn't Peter either."

Rodney frowned. "Is there anyone else?" His eyes widened in horror.

"No! It wasn't Kavanagh." Daniel lowered his voice further. "It was Jack, okay?"

Horror turned to wide-eyed amazement with Rodney's wide mouth forming the familiar O-shape that looked even more beautiful wrapped around Daniel's cock. If blow-jobs ever became an Olympic sport then Rodney could win gold for Canada. Daniel grinned, wondering if Jack would be good competition and then he sighed because, if even Jack sucked at it - no pun intended, he thought - just having Jack in his bed would be a gold medal-winning event. Rodney looked a little disgruntled at the news but that faded quickly, his blue eyes softening in pleasure.

"About time," he stated softly.

Movement in the doorway brought Daniel's eyes up to watch the latest arrival. "Isn't that Major Sheppard?"

"Who?"

Daniel waved a hand. "The guy with the gene?"

Rodney's eyes widened almost comically and his head whipped around so fast that Daniel was certain Rodney would be complaining of whiplash or something neck related. The handsome, messy-haired pilot ignored the food queue and carried on towards Daniel and Rodney.

"Dr. Weir said I'd find you here," he said to Rodney, eyes flicking in greeting to Daniel.

"Yes. You. You're back. I thought. Well. Uhmm." Rodney scrabbled at words and at his papers simultaneously.

"Is he always this coherent?"

Daniel could not stop the twitch of his lips. "Pretty much."

"What? Oh that's right. Feel free to insult my intelligence right up until I save the planet...again."

Rather than be intimidated, Sheppard pulled out a chair and sat down, snaring Rodney's coffee.

"What are you..?" He grabbed his coffee back. "Get your own, Major!"

"Testy too."

"Too much caffeine."

"I'm right here!"

"And so am I, so do you want to go play with that Chair thingy or not?"

"Play?" Rodney raised his chin in defiance. "That Chair thingy is a highly advanced piece of technology..."

"Rodney?" Daniel interrupted him before he could get into full rant mode.

"What?" Rodney rounded on him.

"Tetchy!"

"I'm sorry but the Major..."

"Is offering his help with the Chair."

"Don't make me rescind that offer," Sheppard added.

Rodney's eyes widened. "No. Of course not, Major. If you don't... I'll just..." Several abortive sentences later, Rodney had packed up his laptop and papers and was about to follow Sheppard from the cafeteria. Daniel grabbed his arm.

"I think he likes you," he whispered.

"Who? The major?" Those guileless blue eyes widened again. "Really?"

Daniel shook his head and grinned widely as Rodney sped after Sheppard. They had barely cleared the room when the slight hum that was like a low background noise throughout the outpost stilled, and the room was plunged into darkness. From the corridor beyond, Daniel heard Rodney's exclamation.

"What's that moron done now!?"

Daniel sighed. Only one person was stupid enough to mess around with the ZPM when Rodney was not around: Kavanagh.

***

A small beam of light pierced the darkness, making Rodney jump.

"You have a flashlight on you? What are you, a boy scout? Bet you're wearing clean underwear too."

"You mean you're not?"

"What? Of course I'm... Oh, very funny. That way, Major."

"And that way would be which way exactly?"

"Oh for...Give me the light."

Rodney grabbed for the flashlight but the Major snatched it back. "No....And you pointing away in the pitch black is not getting us anywhere."

Grabbing the Major's arm, he tugged him forward. "This way," he stated though gritted teeth but could not help the gentle thrill of touching the man in the dark, reminding him of more pleasurable encounters in the dark. Forcing his errant thoughts under control, Rodney led them back towards the Chair room where, no doubt, Kavanagh was frantically trying to undo the damage he had caused by playing around with the ZPM housing. Fortunately, Rodney had already foreseen a problem of this nature and had started to rig up a Naquadah generator to provide emergency lights and power. Unfortunately, Sheppard's arrival yesterday had interrupted that work before it was completed but all Rodney had to do was make a few more connections and throw the switch.

Sheppard's arm seemed solid beneath Rodney's hand and he could almost imagine the man's heat bleeding through the uniform and spreading all the way to Rodney's groin. Ahead, Rodney could hear the panic in raised voices and several yelps of pain before Elizabeth's strong and reassuring voice cut through them all.

"Everybody stay exactly where you are. Now, does anyone have a..."

Her words ended abruptly when Rodney rounded the corner with Sheppard with the flashlight. Some how, Sheppard managed to pick out her position immediately, and she raised a hand to protect her eyes from the sudden light.

"Who is..?"

"It's me, Elizabeth," Rodney stated before Sheppard could open his mouth. "With Major Sheppard. This way, Major. If you could just shine the light here..."

Rodney worked quickly, twisting and splicing wires. Finally, he lowered the cover and pressed the switch on the control panel. Instantly, a low hum emanated from the generator and seconds later, the emergency lights bathed the whole outpost in a pale purple light. Rodney looked up with a frown.

"Hmm! Thought they'd be brighter than this but..." He clapped his hands together. "Elizabeth."

"Thank you, Rodney."

"Now, which idiot messed with the ZPM?"

"If you had properly insulated..."

"Kavanagh. I might have guessed."

"Rodney? The ZPM?" The soft warning in her tone brought Rodney up short.

"Yes. Of course." Rodney sank down next to the floor panel where the ZPM was standing proud rather than pushed down until level with the rest of the platform housing the control chair. Kavanagh sank down next to him and reached out to push on it but Rodney shoved him aside.

"It simply needs a push to set it back into place." Kavanagh stated angrily. "And if you'd get out of my way then..."

"No. It needs reinitializing and unless you have suddenly developed the ATA gene then all you will accomplish is a massive explosion that would probably melt the ice-cap and make Noah's flood seem like a rain puddle in comparison." He looked over his shoulder, wishing O'Neill was still here but recognizing that he had the next best thing in Major Sheppard. "Major? Touch here and think ON."

"You mean here?" The Major touched the dulled, large orange crystal.

"No. I was referring to me because the soft lighting has put me in such a romantic mood. Of course, I mean there!"

"You really need to lay off the caffeine and get more sleep, McKay."

"Oh, like I have a choice..."

"Gentlemen! Concentrate."

Rodney watched as the Major's eyes flickered closed, his face blanking. Suddenly, the crystal glowed orange and slid effortlessly down into its housing. The familiar background hum joined that of the Naquadah generator and the lights flared on at full power once more. Sheppard looked extraordinarily pleased with himself.

"Did I do that?"

Rodney sighed. Of all people, he should have had the gene. It was so unfair. Yet, as he glanced across at Kavanagh, he realized it could have been far worse if Kavanagh had been born with the gene rather than Sheppard, O'Neill or even Carson. At least he might have a little control over Carson and this flyboy. Of course, the moment the lights were up, Kavanagh began bleating about Rodney's carelessness and how he should have had the emergency lights ready to activate immediately, for which Rodney had no excuse except for a lack of time.

"At least McKay had thought about it and got them almost operational. Hate to think how bad it could have gotten if we'd needed a few hours rather than a few minutes to get the lights and power back on line. We'd probably have frozen to death down here."

Rodney looked up in surprise as Sheppard defended him. "Unlikely but..."

"You did good, Rodney." Elizabeth smiled and nodded, eyes crinkled warmly much to Kavanagh's disgust.

"I did?" He straightened up, realizing the Major had a point. "Of course I did." He gave a fatuous grin that faded only fractionally when the Major sighed and rolled his eyes slightly because Rodney could see warmth in those green-hazel eyes and, strangely, that meant more to him than any verbal praise.

Hours later, as Sheppard allowed Rodney to push him through several more exciting mental exercises in the Chair, Rodney was not surprised that basic lust for this messy-haired USAF Major had gentled into a far more intimate crush.

THE END...of this latest part, at least :-)


End file.
